


Cackle Bladder

by misura



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: collarcorner, Gen, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>First rule of the con: don't get shot.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cackle Bladder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisle_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisle_one/gifts).



> prompt: _I like: Neal and Peter friendship, Neal whump, Hurt(Neal)/Comfort(by Peter), angst, protective Peter, Neal emotionally fragile but still in character, worried Peter, aftermath with Peter caring for Neal, Neal in danger_
> 
>  _I don't want: OOC characterization (e.g. Neal and/or Peter crying/sobbing excessively), excessive torture, a story that isn't Neal and Peter centric, a lot of focus on canon romances_
> 
> This was written as a pinch hit.

First rule of the con: don't get shot.

 

"I'm warning you, Neal," Peter says, trying for 'stern' but only managing to sound like someone entirely too used to people not doing as they're told, and being more or less all right with that. "You go in there, I'll shoot you myself."

Neal shrugs. Jones is busy fiddling with a piece of equipment. Diana is talking into her cellphone, probably to Hughes, possibly to one of her contacts.

About two hours from now, three weeks' worth of work will be going down the drain because Peter can't get Hughes to greenlight entering the building on the other side of the street. It's all rather stupid and pointless and very much a 'been here, done this' situation.

Right now, Neal knows that even when Peter says 'don't', what he really means is 'please'. And Peter is annoying sometimes, and too fond of rules and control and telling Neal he can't do things, but he's still Neal's friend, and Neal doesn't have so many friends these days that he can afford to ignore them.

So.

 

(Peter notices when Neal slips out, of course he notices - he's the only one who ever caught Neal, after all, even if Neal will always believe that was mostly luck, really. He pretends he doesn't though, staring at a screen with Jones softly telling him about one thing or another. Neal tells himself it's approval, of a kind, and yet when he walks away from the van, he can't help but wish there'd been something more, some way Peter would acknowledge that this, too, is why he likes having Neal around: because Neal knows when to break rules, and is willing to do so for Peter's sake.)

 

Neal has gotten shot before, actually, or rather: James Harrick has gotten shot.

It was messy and inelegant and the death of a suit Neal had grown rather fond of, to say nothing of a character, but these things happened sometimes, and he'd had Mozzie with him, and Kate, and they'd gotten together in Kate's hotel room after (she'd called herself Rose) to drink some too expensive wine and celebrate a job mostly well done, if you discounted the unpleasantness at the end.

When James had taken a bullet, he'd done so heroically. There had been swooning and labored breathing and a bloody hand grasping the mark's (Neal's forgotten her name, or prefers to believe he's forgotten her name) and a whispered farewell. They'd rehearsed it several times, before. Kate had giggled, and Mozzie had looked serious, and Neal had felt nothing at all.

 

It probably shouldn't come as a surprise that the real thing hurts, and yet it does.

Mostly, it's the shock, he thinks (in that part of his mind still capable of thought) - he's working with 'the good guys' now, with _Peter_ , doing what Peter wants him to do (even if he can't say so outright). It doesn't seem fair that he'd get shot for doing 'the right thing', when he's never gotten anything worse than a scratch for doing 'the wrong thing'.

And he'd had _fun_ doing 'the wrong thing'; people'd _liked_ him, even when they'd thought they knew him, and even if Peter doesn't _hate_ him, exactly, that's not the same at all, because, because, because.

 

("Man down!" Peter yells, sounding scared and angry and absurdly far away. "Jones!" and that is wrong; it's Neal, not Jones, unless Jones has gotten shot, too, and that would almost be like Peter having gotten shot himself, and _that_ , that's just not possible at all.)

 

Next thing Neal knows, someone's shaking him and it _hurts_ , so this sort of squeak comes popping out of his mouth, and it's kind of embarrassing, because he's a con man; he always knows what to say, and it's not 'squeak', except that it seems to make the someone stop shaking him.

Peter's face is very pale. "Neal. Stay with me, all right?" which is a silly thing to say, Neal thinks: he's been _shot_. It's not as if he's going to get up and wander off or anything.

It's probably going to hurt to laugh, too, so he doesn't.

His shirt feels wet. There's red on Peter's hands. (There's _blood_ on Peter's hands, and this time, it's really Neal's blood, and that can't be good.)

Neal opens his mouth to say something about it, but all that comes out is something that's in between a sigh and a moan. Peter looks like he might cry and then he looks like he wants to punch someone.

"Where the hell's that ambulance?"

 

("I remember the first time I got shot," Peter says. "Are you listening to me, Neal?" and Neal makes this soft sound to indicate that yes, he is and yes, he wants to hear this story, wants to know about Peter's first time getting shot, even if generally speaking, he'd much rather hear stories about people _not_ getting shot; he doesn't like guns, has never liked guns - guns are for people like Keller, who use force to get what they want because they can't think of any other way, and Kate would never.)

 

Neal has never liked the smell of hospitals.

Still, when he opens his eyes forty-five minutes after he's woken up, he sees Peter sitting next to his bed, which is nice. "Hey," Neal says, because with the way Peter's slumping, he's either taking a nap or getting there, and neither is of any use to Neal.

Peter's expression is sheepish, then relieved, then trying-to-be-neutral. "Neal. How do you feel?"

"Like someone shot me," Neal says. "Funny, huh?" because he could never make Peter feel even half as guilty as Peter himself - and even if maybe Neal doesn't want Peter to feel _bad_ , exactly, he still wants Peter to feel ... something. Responsible, maybe. Like he owes it to Neal to stay, instead of go home.

"You're going to be just fine." Peter's hand is warm on Neal's arm, or it could be Neal's just cold.

Neal closes his eyes, pretends to fade away a little. "Did we get him?" he mumbles.

"We got him," Peter says, and his voice is warm, too, now.

"Good," Neal says. He couldn't care less, honestly, but Peter should be pleased, and that's enough.

Even with his eyes closed, he can still hear the way Peter doesn't get up and walk out of the room.


End file.
